


Café Morph

by airshipcity



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6755740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airshipcity/pseuds/airshipcity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Retail life is hard, and the employees of the Café Morph get to suffer the terrible, terrible customers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The David

When the bell chimes at exactly 2:08pm, everyone in the Café Morph know exactly who’s coming. 

“Shit,” Rachel murmurs, untying her hair. Normally, this is where Jake would pop his head out and frown pointedly at her for violating one of their most basic rules – no baristas with long loose hair that could possibly land in a customer’s bagel or coffee cup, even Marco doesn’t get out of that rule - but at exactly 2:08pm, they all know exactly how little she cares. Frankly, she’d be thrilled if David found hair in his order and never came back. 

“Give me a strong quad venti, no foam, soy, stirred twice, three pump peppermint mocha,” David says as soon as he approaches the counter, a lazy sneer on his face. Rachel would honestly enjoy meeting him outside work some day, purely for the possibility of punching him somewhere grotesquely painful. “Get to it. See if you can get it right this time.” 

“We don’t serve ventis, since this isn’t Starbucks, but I can make you a medium coffee,” she responds through gritted teeth. “Just a moment.” 

“Fine,” he groans, crossing his arms with a roll of his eyes. Rachel hears his foot tapping all the way as she peers into the back room, sending Marco and Jake the most pleading, desperate expression she can muster. 

“Seriously, I’ll pay whoever wants to take his order for me,” she whines. “Save me.” 

Marco doesn’t even have the decency to pretend he’s not smug when he answers. “Sorry,” he responds, grinning. “You know he won’t even let me touch his orders after last time.” 

“Same,” Jake responds, though with a more sympathetic expression. “And Cassie’s not here yet. I’m sorry, Rachel, you’ll just have to finish up and hope he doesn’t complain.” 

Defeated, Rachel slinks over to the coffee machine, staring at it for a moment before she realises she’s already forgotten the entire order. Shit. 

She could just ask him to repeat it. With a bullshit order like that, it’s possible he doesn’t even remember it himself. Even so, it’d be obvious weakness to let him know she’s already thrown off; they both know it’s a challenge that he’s not expecting her to win. 

“Are you going to stand there until you close the shop, or am I gonna have to make the coffee myself?” he drawls, and Rachel glares at him. 

“No,” she shoots back. “The machine just needs to be refilled. Freshly ground beans, for our most… loyal customer.” 

“Your best customer, I’d think,” he drawls, though he looks satisfied with the vague ego-stroking. Rachel fights the need to vomit a little into her mouth. “Anyway, hurry up. I don’t have all day.” 

Rachel all but runs back to the back room, throwing herself on the nearest folding chair with a deep groan. “I don’t care if it’s shitty customer service, I’m just going to pretend he’s not there,” she murmurs. This time, Jake does frown, if mildly. 

“Look, I don’t blame you,” he says, and Rachel huffs because that always means he’s going to follow it up with a ‘but’. “But he’s still a paying customer, even if he’s not particularly pleasant to deal with.” 

“I’m not doing it,” Rachel grumbles. “Not today. I refuse.” 

“I’ll come with you,” a voice says from the back entrance, and Rachel could have kissed Cassie on the spot. She closes the door and drops her bag by the back wall, tying an apron around herself as soon as her somewhat grimy jacket is off. 

“Cassie, you’re a lifesaver,” Rachel says. “It’s him.” 

“I figured,” Cassie responds softly, washing her hands. “I’ve figured out how to deal with him, though. Do we still have that little notebook under the counter? The one for noting down problems about the coffee machinery?” 

“Yeah,” Marco says, leaning back in his chair. “Why?” 

“You’ll see,” Cassie says. Smiling, she heads out to the counter. Rachel grabs a bag of entirely mediocre ground coffee beans on the way out. 

“What the hell is taking so long?” David asks when they come out, leaning on the counter like he might’ve been peeking behind it to look at whatever they might have hidden from customers. Cassie, bless her, manages to smile politely at him and take over while Rachel pours in some more ground coffee into the machine. “You guys really have terrible service. I should stop coming here.” 

“Actually,” Cassie says before Rachel can comment, “we were just checking up on the secret menu. Your order sounds wonderful, so I thought we might add it.” 

David looks surprised for a moment. “So you do have a secret menu,” he says, a glint in his eye. “I knew your manager was lying when he said there wasn’t one.” 

“Well, it’s a secret menu,” Cassie chirps and pulls out the notebook and the nearest pen. “It’s only for our VIP customers, and by now I should think you deserve the special customer treatment. Could you repeat that order of yours?” 

“Of course.” With a satisfied smirk, he repeats his order, and Rachel is begrudgingly impressed that he managed to spew out the exact same garble twice. “Are you going to name it?” 

“Since we all know perfectly well who you are, I think we might just call it the David,” Cassie hums. “Don’t you agree, Rachel?” 

“Mmmh. That sounds perfect.” 

“One David coming up, then. You can just take a seat and I’ll bring the drink to you.” 

Rachel leans against the wall for a moment when he walks off, giving Cassie a long look. “So are you actually going to make that nonsense for him?” 

“Of course not,” Cassie huffs, handing the notebook over to Rachel. “I’m making it decaf.”


	2. The Anda-Latte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secret menu takes off, and so does Mr. Esplin.

"Mr. Esplin's back." 

Ax quietly utters the three least favourite words of most of the staff on Café Morph, and Tobias promptly vanishes from the coffee machine and to the back. It's a good day to be on the baking station. 

Jake groans as the small bell by the entrance door rings. A loud bellow of "MR. BERENSON!!" echoes against the walls of the sparse coffee shop, and Jake puts on his most professional smile. The businessman has yet to notice the seething hate that radiates from the staff when he enters, which Jake almost regrets, but at least he pays for his coffee.   
Behind the slightly intimidated-looking girl whose order was interrupted mid-way, the tall man is yelling into his phone – which is upside-down. No one appears to feel the need to point this out to him. 

He rolls up his sleeve and takes Ax's place at the counter – it's not even Mr. Esplin's turn to order yet, but he might as well ready himself. Sending the current customer a mildly apologetic look, Jake finishes taking her order, and sends her down the line to where Marco is making her mocha to order. 

Of course, when it's Mr. Esplin's turn, he's still speaking on the phone. 

"Don't even bother, you incompetent imbecile," he snarls, paying Jake no mind. "Pack up your things. You're fired. Out." 

An audible whimper escapes the unfortunate victim on the other end of the conversation, and finally, finally, Mr. Esplin scoffs and pockets the phone, turning to Jake. 

"There you are. You are still the daytime manager of this irrelevant little location, yes?" 

"Absolutely," Jake says. It's easier to smile if he imagines the man accidentally firing himself one day. "What will it be today, Mr. Esplin?" 

"You know my name?" the tall man asks, squinting at Jake, who pulls out all of his minuscule acting skills to give him a patient-sounding sigh. "What, are you a corporate spy? I could have your entire business closed down by the end of the week, you know." 

"Of course I know, Mr. Esplin. My brother is one of your interns. Tom Berenson? He speaks rather highly of you, after all." 

"Ah," the man says, a satisfied glint in his eye as he straightens his back again. A new queue is beginning to form behind him, and Marco sends Jake a brief glance of the 'hurry up' kind. "Well, I suppose that is only natural. I like your style, Berenson, none of your employees have any sense of customer service. I'd fire them all, if I were you." 

"I'm sure you would," Jake breathes. "But you're a busy man, Mr. Esplin, I'd hate to keep you too long. Your order?" 

"My colleague's son was here the other day," he hums. "He stopped by his father at work this morning. He said you have a secret menu here?" 

Oh, god. 

"It's a work in progress," Jake responds, lowering his voice a little. "Of course, we would be happy to offer you a coffee of your choice." 

"Recommend something," he orders. Marco, clearly holding back a deep groan, approaches the counter, jovially laying an arm around Jake's shoulder. 

"Actually, Cassie and I are in charge of that particular menu. If you'd like a recommendation, I can help you out." 

He shoos Jake to the side, leaning on the counter. Mr. Esplin gives him a once-over, before squinting at him too. 

"You're Eva's son, aren't you?" he murmurs. Marco's eyes lock onto his. 

"Yup. Wouldn't want to deny mom's favourite employee access to our VIP menu, would I?" 

"Ugh. Fine. What do you suggest?" 

"Our newest creation," Marco says, smirking. "The Anda-Light." 

"I thought it was the Anda-Latte," Ax says, glancing over towards them on his way to restock the shelves with cookies. 

"No one but you can handle the Anda-Latte, Ax-man," Marco replies, rolling his eyes. Mr. Esplin, however, takes the bait. Marco attempts to not look too gleeful. 

"If that delinquent can handle a mere custom coffee, as can I," he barks. "Make one for me, right now." 

"Alright, but I warned you," Marco chirps. He shuffles back to the coffee machine, leaving Jake to punch in the total at the register – Mr. Esplin scoffs loudly at the four-dollar coffee. 

"Bandits, all of you," he grumbles. "You expect people to pay your outrageous prices?" 

"On a salary like yours, I expect you can afford the best," Marco laughs, quickly putting away a small bag of... something. He wipes his fingers against his pants, leaving a powdery trace of brown and rust red, though Mr. Esplin fails to notice as he approaches the order area. Marco stirs the Anda-Latte, tops it with an enormous amount of whipped cream, and hands the cup to the waiting man. 

"What is this madness you've handed me?" he huffs, and Marco grins, signalling to Jake to watch and wait. Even the other waiting customers have begun to catch on, watching the unfolding scenario. 

"I told you, it's an Anda-Latte. Go ahead, see if you can handle it." 

The challenge hangs in the air for a few long moments, before Mr. Esplin puts the cup to his mouth, practically chugging the mixture. 

Then, the cinnamon and chili hits, and Mr. Esplin coughs and hacks, slamming the half-empty cup back onto the counter and screaming, bits of whipped cream flying from his moustache as he wheezes. 

"WATER!" he screeches. "Give me water, you heathen!" 

"Oh, water doesn't do much," Marco says, patting the businessman's hand. "Chili's a vicious lover. Hey, Ax-man, you got any milk back there?" 

Exactly half a minute passes before Ax leaves the back room, holding out a glass of milk towards Mr. Esplin. As he chugs that too, Ax points at the half-full cup of Anda-Latte. 

"May I have this?" he says. Mr. Esplin hisses into the glass of milk, making bubbles. 

"Yes," he intones, malice creeping into his voice. "Go ahead. Drink up." 

Delighted, Ax picks up the cinnamon chili latte, pouring the whole thing into his mouth in a matter of seconds. Mr. Esplin, defeated, shoves the now empty glass at Marco, stomping towards the entrance. 

"Next time, you give me the Anda-Light, bandits!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this was almost entirely written for the sake of that terrible pun. (For the record, it's even a double pun - the Anda-Latte's poison of choice is Rocoto, or Andean chili pepper, often described as "fire in your mouth".) 
> 
> (All comments with customer/shenanigans suggestions are taken into consideration, for the record. Inspiration is never a bad thing.)

**Author's Note:**

> This story happened sort of by accident, thanks to fandom hero Kendra. I'll probably write more stories later as soon as inspiration strikes, and we'll see what happens from there!


End file.
